Alleviate
by Yamino Tenshi 202
Summary: Sweethearts Week Prompt 1 - Touch. Arthur notices that Alfred is tense from work. Can he help him relieve some of that stress? Maybe a nighttime activity would help? UKUS Massage. Rated M just in case


6:29 PM 7 February 2012

I've decided to take part in Sweethearts Week on the USUK Livejournal (Hopefully my cuts will work this time).

**8th: Close to You**  
>Fic or art must feature physical contact of any sort between our two boys- hugging, kissing, intimacy, hand-holding, you name it. We wanted to start out with something simple for you all.<p>

Rating: M (to be safe)

Warning: Medical names of muscles, Massages, Mention of Sexual Activities

Alleviate

The green-eyed male held his head still, listening to the whispering breath of the younger male beneath him.

The other held still, slumbering. His heart beat rhythmically in his chest and kept a little metronome that would normally put the green-eyed one to sleep, comforting him into sleepiness.

The green-eyed Briton stayed curled against the young American's arm, but he wondered. Just how strong was the heart beneath the other's sleek, smooth flesh? He gently traced his hand across the expanse of Alfred's chest, gliding his fingertips over the pectoral muscles, sternum, closer to his-

"Arthur?" The Englishman looked up to clash his green gaze with blue. Alfred's eyes were glazed over in tiredness brought on from work. The economy crisis wouldn't stop itself, and humans could only do so much on the level of money and corporeal shit that countries needed more rest as the stress from their people began to affect the overall nature of the country. That natural affinity, a need, to care for the government so dearly that a nation could overwork itself is a sadly, common occurrence.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" Arthur blinked, finally brought out of his thoughts. Alfred gazed at him with a concerned, probably thinking that Arthur was annoyed or upset at him for being so tired and inattentive at the little vacation, as he then sighed and sat up from his position on the bed and stretched out his arms, hearing his joints pop out the liquid that kept them slightly limber, but pressurized to the point of pain. His ligaments would just be a bit longer, that was all.

Alfred moved to stand from the bed, but was stopped as he felt Arthur's hand on his arm.

"What's wrong, babe? You're quiet this morning."

The silence, tense, was the loudest thing in their ears, making the Briton want to destroy it all.

"You're tired." He rubbed his thumb on the flexor pollicis longus muscle of the adolescent's arm, that muscle that flexed his thumb and secured it to his radial bone and elbow joint. He wondered if the other knew the name of that muscle.

Alfred blinked. Yeah, he was tired, downright exhausted. However, it wasn't too bad that it was hurting his body that badly.

"Okay, I am, but what does that have to do with anything?" Arthur frowned slightly as he brought up his other hand and led both appendages to Alfred's shoulders.

"Lie down."

The American stared at the other.

"What?"

"_Lie down. On your stomach._" Alfred paused his thoughts. The emphasis that the other placed on those five words made it sound so serious, whatever Arthur wanted to do.

Pouting softly, Alfred turned his body towards the other, feeling the sheets shift over his slightly toughened skin and his pajama pants, some soft fleece trousers with a plaid design. He laid down on the Egyptian cotton, sensing his warmth from when he was asleep on it before. Glancing over to the side, he saw the squarish digits on his alarm clock.

11:38. At night.

He hummed softly in realization. He remembered falling asleep at about 6:45, not too long ago in the long run. He usually never fell asleep that early, falling asleep around 10:30 at the earliest, 11:30 at the latest, as Arthur stressed the importance of a good night's rest.

How long had Arthur been watching over him, worrying about his lack of sleep? As he was about to voice his inquiry, a sound of something squirting out of a bottle resounded in the room.

"England?"

"Shh, love." He could hear the bottle being put on the bedside table, a solid thud against the mahogany wood. The sweet scent of cucumber and aloe, a scent that made him think of rainfall – and through extension, Arthur -, filled his mind gradually, along with the soft din of the sloshing of two hands rubbing together to warm the lotion.

As the two worn hands – worn from wars, seas, and cross-stitching – began to knead at the muscles on his back, rubbing the tension of fatigue from his trapezius, the rhombodius major – just over his shoulder blade – and the other muscles that helped his arms move, his back to twist into sensual forms that were not unnatural but still amazed the Brit all the same.

"Mmm, Arthur..."

The Englishman smiled ever so minutely. The American looked so relaxed beneath him, a calm, contented wild cat that finally caught its prey, getting a lovely, fleeting chance to rest.

He moved to straddle Alfred's rump, leaning down to press kisses to the smooth flesh, taking delight in the gooseflesh that followed. He made sure push away the covers that hid Alfred's lower back and flannel-clad legs from his greedy eyes.

This alternation of kisses and kneading took place from the shoulder blades – soft kisses, like the beat of a butterfly wing – down to the small of the back, over the extensor muscles – deep kisses in which Arthur would press his tongue against the gluteal muscles that were so close to Alfred's buttocks and hips that the younger male would shiver as arousal began to flood and heat his blood, cheeks pink from the teasing of the other. By this point, the lotion had been used on the upper part of the American's back and the Englishman did not have to worry about the artificial, horrible taste of cucumber lotion in his mouth.

Alfred panted when Arthur pulled away, closing his eyes as Arthur pulled down his pajama pants the rest of the way and lifting his legs when Arthur had pooled the material around his ankles.

"Arthur... Why-"

"How do you feel?" Arthur sat back, looking hopeful at his lover. He reached over to the nightstand again and grabbed the bottle of lubricating cream, aloe filling his nose again.

"I feel awesome, babe." Alfred moved to sit up, but stilled as he felt Arthur press one of his buttocks to the side, kneading the soft, firm mass of gluteal muscle, as he fingered Alfred's anus, playing with the sphincter muscles that usually kept anything from coming inside.

"Hey! Arthur-" A slip inside made him quiet himself and drew out a small whimper. The sensation felt so strange, his muscles being coaxed into doing the exact opposite of their function.

"I-I wanted to – Ah... – give you a massage, too, England.." America closed his eyes, feeling another finger join the first.

"Hush, now, poppet," England whispered as he bent down, kissing the other on the forehead and continuing to prepare the other for his special "massage."

"Why?" America could hear the whining tone of his voice, but he didn't particularly liked being spoiled like this. He was the Hero! He should be doing this to England, making him moan and feel good with gentle, erotic touches from his fingers.

As England ignored his lover's pleas and questions and maneuvered him into position, Alfred's chest being against the sheets and his knees the only things keeping him propped up, along with Arthur's hands holding him in place, the Brit bent down again, smiling more broadly as he said,

"Did you know that one of the best ways to relieve stress is by making love?" A gentle kiss to wheat blond hair.

"Let me alleviate your stress love."

Alfred did not protest.

In fact, he nodded and smiled.

8 February 2012 - 8:30 PM

:) I like this. A lot.


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